


Substitute

by Leszre



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23809564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leszre/pseuds/Leszre
Summary: NOTE: this is arepost, as a part of re-instating effort…[TRANSLATION] unless I’m new to you, you already read this. :).[ Outline ]Awhat ifAU of Blank Years: just like a brush fire, somewhere in US, an affair started. And only after a short while, it ends. Not in the way Oliver had hoped.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Substitute

**Author's Note:**

> [ transcriber’s note ]   
>  –italic _Elio_ within the text is intentional.   
>  –the uhh… the movie _Pretty Woman_ ’s Vivian’s rules stand as a general norm in this verse.    
>  –In CMBYN canon, there is no hint of Oliver actually stepping out of his marriage. And _Find Me_ confirmed it. Yet, this 3K or so began from a line within the book verse, when Oliver and Elio met 15 years later.

**Substitute**

**Part One**

He can’t get enough of him.

The place reeks of sex. The mixture of sweat, jumble of extremely bare-bone carnal musk, their shared steamy breaths. The two have been at this for hours. And it’s a mystery how they are not even remotely parched or come close to being exhausted.

Oliver is buck naked, on top of the highest thread count silk sheet in the market, his back against the expansive designer-picked expertly leather-upholstered headboard. His arms stretched to each side, his wrists tied down to opposite side of the bed frame. It always has to be his silk-ties. Something about him being prim and proper all his life, Oliver said once.

The slender one is between Oliver’s sprawled out legs. Dark chocolate curls falling over his eyes, leisurely running his tender grip along Oliver’s engorged erection. As the hazel eyes runs his thumb on the top slit, Oliver’s thigh muscles quiver involuntarily as the blond hisses. The moistened scarlet pink lips quirk up only in the right corner, as he looks up at him through his sweat-damp lashes.

“Not yet,” the chiseled cheeks warns low, his eyes glinting with a salacious grin.

Oliver subdues his groan as his ankles turn inward. Sure enough, a tiny semi-translucent bead forms at the top of his aching erection. Now about to get too veiny, it pulses.

The dark curls clicks his tongue and drags his fingers loose and sits back, without words. This earns him a shuddering sigh from Oliver. The hazel eyes cannot believe he gets to do this. To have this all American golden boy college professor beg him for a touch, a command, and to have the blond spent as he saw fit. And get paid for the whole thing. The only condition was to allow Oliver to call him _Elio_ and let him occasionally suck his toes and kiss his ankles.

Oliver knows why he withdrew from him. So the professor tilts his head back against the headboard, screwing his eyes shut, trying so hard not to come, not until _Elio_ says he can. Seeing how debauched and deliciously tortured Oliver is, _Elio_ lifts himself just a little and slowly leans down. To Oliver, the chiseled cheeks is taking forever. When his face is very near Oliver’s torso, _Elio_ parts his lips just as slowly and pushes the tip of his moist pink tongue out just above his lower front teeth. Oliver groans out a rough moan from deep within his chest. With his walnut brown lashes casting low, _Elio_ then brings up his softly curled fingers up to his parted lips. Deftly, with glee, his gorgeous eyes oozing with ‘oh, you’re gonna get it,’ _Elio_ licks his index and third fingertips.

Like a kitten.

Keeping his expertly sculpted lean torso as is, _Elio_ extends his arm and encircles saliva laden fingertips over Oliver’s hard nipples.

“ _Elio_ , please,” Oliver begs, an octave low, “no matter how much I want to, I won’t last. Please have mercy.”

“Hm,” _Elio_ tilts his head to his left just as slowly. Knowing Oliver likes being teased like this. And he proceeds to drag the tips of his fingertips (using the part just below his blunt finger nails) over Oliver’s torso.

It draws a gorgeous long growl from Oliver and a sign of defeat: his head dropping forward. In a way of saying, you win.

“Anything,” Oliver says with his chest heaving fast, his hips twitching upward involuntarily, “whatever you want.”

“Anything?” counters _Elio_ , it almost sounds like a purr.

Oliver swallows hard in desperation, trying his absolute best to control himself.

“Are you gonna fill me up, then?”

Oliver’s two full blown irises disappear behind his fluttering eyelids.

“Or,” _Elio_ pauses as he shifts his knees a little, “I could hold you in my mouth,” and just as deftly, the dark curls traces the same fingertips on Oliver’s aching erection, feather light, from the root, “let your heaviness settle over my tongue, and have you work yourself into a crazy head-spin as your magnificent cock fucks deep into my throat.”

Oliver’s taut six-pack hollows inward as _Elio_ ’s fingertips reach the top. The hazels eyes twists his upper shoulders just a smidge, as his finger swipes up the milky bead onto its pad. His eyes flick open and gaze straight into Oliver. And he brings that finger into his mouth.

Oliver makes a guttural noise. And the bed frame creaks as the blond fists his hands and his silk-tie-wrangled wrists resist forward to reach out to _Elio_. The chiseled cheeks leans to the bed side table and takes hold of the bottle that is already half empty. This time, his hands move quickly with the practiced ease. Once he is ready, _Elio_ places himself on top of Oliver and straddles him, the lubed fingers gently grabbing Oliver’s overdue-for-touch (any touch) erection. Once the swollen head makes a contact with his thoroughly lubed ring muscle, _Elio_ says low, “Promise that you’ll be good now, yeah?”

Oliver nods twice.

“No~~,” _Elio_ pines a little with a pout, a pretend disappointment, “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, I’ll–,” Oliver gasps, “I’ll be good, I promise.”

The hazel eyes' head dips elegantly slow once, closing his eyes with the motion. Oliver sucks in a deep breath as he is engulfed tightly into _Elio_ ’s warm body. Though this is their fourth time, it’s a wonder how delectably tight he is. The dark curls' knees sink into the plush bed as he presses back, leaning just a little, to settle all the way. Oliver feels like _Elio_ can swallow all of him whole, even his balls, into his body. His body feels so good and it fits into him incredibly well.

 _Elio_ begins with a lazy roll of his hips. He is not trying to make him last but to have both of them sync into their ultimate high. He’s been doing this long enough to know how Oliver wants each of their encounter to go.

On his fifth roll, Oliver breaths out his own name. It’s his cue.

The hazel eyes doesn’t know why the professor does this. He just concluded (on his second appointment with Oliver) that it’s a kind of narcissistic-kink thing, and didn’t bother to ask.

“Don’t ruin my fun,” _Elio_ warns as he rolls his hips into the sixth slow one.

Oliver shakes his head first before he says, “Never.”

 _Elio_ , out of nowhere, reaches out his arms to the corner of the bed and effortlessly undoes the expensive silk-ties, the right one first then the left. Oliver is in complete shock. But he surges up and brings _Elio_ ’s slender body into his embrace. _Elio_ , too, threads his fingers into sweat damp blond hair, taking hold of Oliver’s skull. Oliver looks up at him like he is worshipping a deity. Their eyes locked on each other, _Elio_ speeds up his hips.

“Uft, fuck!!” Olive exclaims.

“Nuh, uh, don’t you dare!” says the dark curls, panting.

Oliver large palm travels down to cup the back of porcelain-white mound of the hazel eyes' body.

With a little firm intention, Oliver tucks forward and his palm presses against _Elio_ glut, bringing his body closer to him. In every slide of to-and-fro, Oliver groans in full satisfaction, his eyes almost burning a hole into _Elio_ 's soul. With just enough friction, just enough resistance, their body crash into each other desperately chasing after the high only two people who’ve been so acquainted, down to every bit of fiber of their existence, can. Then, something just as unexpected happens. Oliver snakes in his hand between their sweat glistened bodies and takes hold of the dark curls’ erection, without breaking his gaze.

 _Elio_ ’s eyes widens, as Oliver curves in his torso a little, so he could pump his grip along. Oliver catches _Elio_ parting his lips and gives a single head shake before he gets a chance to say any.

“At least, give me this. Just this once,” pleads Oliver.

Something about his voice…

So, with his hips still undulating, _Elio_ leans down and presses his lips on Oilver’s. Oliver moans into him, happily. It only takes them less than a minute. For their hearts to thump fiercely, beyond ramming speed, in sync, their chests bellowing in short intervals, thick sweat dripping along their sizzling skin.

“Tell me you’re close,” Oliver says between his heavy pants.

At that, _Elio_ just gives his quick nods: three to be exact, a desperate inhale, and three more. Oliver speeds up his fist along the dark curls’ erection and both spill at the same time. Their body ticks once, their bellies tighten, and are followed by waves of stutter as Oliver moans out a guttural sound into _Elio_ ’s skin.

.

Oliver said that he rents this place solely for his writing. And he is the only one allowed an access. When they met for the first time, in person, the hazel eyes wasn’t sure he came to the right place. Because the guy didn’t look like his usual clientele. The professor confessed that he doesn’t normally do this and added that the profile pic of his made Oliver to risk everything. And after the second appointment, the dark curls found out the professor’s real name. And that was almost six months ago.

.

 _Elio_ gets himself up when their breaths are manageably calm.

“Hey… no,” Oliver tells him, reaching out for him, “don’t take off too soon.”

The dark curls pauses.

They don’t do this. He doesn’t cuddle his clients after they’ve fucked him. He doesn’t stay for "after" the hot-and-steamy coitus. Or anything else that is considered as ‘being in a relationship.’ It's not a matter of payment but as his principle or code, per se. The dark curls doesn’t do them because he has had his fair share of clients thinking they had a claim on him. Developing attachments, feelings for god’s sake. And it only made things murky. After all, what he does is fundamentally transactional.

For his part, however, he understood that he’s stupidly fell in love with this man. He has known it for a while now. No, he never ever held any emotion close to this with any of his other clients, no matter how much the wad of cash landed after he rendered his services. And the hazel eyes knows that’s not how this works. But Oliver being like this… _Elio_ doesn’t know what to do or how to process it. With his socially responsible and proper upstanding status veneer peeled off, Oliver is asking for his company.

“I know it’s not part of our deal. And I’m sorry if I’m stepping over too far. But…” Oliver says those words. He never has done that before, either.

.

Earlier this afternoon, when _Elio_ arrived, Oliver presented him with an old edition of book, poems. Expertly wrapped in an old fashioned craft paper with paper strings. It isn’t the first time the chiseled cheeks’ clients showered him with gifts and presents. When he opened the package, something about the texture and the engraved title filled in gold on its cover made him freeze.

“I don’t read other languages,” _Elio_ said sheepishly.

“It’s Italian,” Oliver offered and he quickly added, “no, no, no, I didn’t mean….”

“Don’t worry, I’m not offended,” he replied Oliver, though he couldn’t understand what he was feeling.

After a long pause, Oliver said, “one day, will you let me read it to you?”

.

 _Elio_ doesn’t say anything. Maybe he is thinking to himself, now putting all the pieces together. Yet all he does is standing there, rooted, blinking rather rapidly, his hands holding the towel he just wiped their mixed bodily fluids down with.

Although once the chiseled cheeks learned Oliver’s name, he secretly read all Oliver's books – even his academic ones. Of which he kept it to himself and never shared his private adoration with Oliver's writing styles and the thoughts professor carries within his brilliant head.

Yeah, he has hoped for the dumbest, most foolish, and impossible things. That he is not there for Oliver as someone’s substitute. That Oliver does really want him, instead of this _Elio_ guy. But he doesn't know much about Oliver. Nor does the professor, of him. Because of how the contract works, they don’t speak about their personal life. Or why Oliver calls him by that name. _He doesn’t even know my real name_ , the slender man points that bitter fact to himself.

Knowing that he is a stand-in for someone else – he may never know or even meet – breaks his heart. And the fact that he still fell for this person, Oliver, makes the situation even worse. The hazel eyes wants to tell him, _Can you love me as if I were him?_ so god damn many times that he lost count.

But...

It’s not what he does.

It’s not what they do.

Because at the end of the day, Oliver will go back to his life.

His life of being a respected university professor, a husband, a father of two boys, and most of all, a beloved writer.

So, he stands there, next to the bed.

Oliver looks up at him with pleading eyes.

He’s not gonna give up, is he?, _Elio_ thinks bitterly in his head.

*

**Part Two**

_Can you love me as if I were him?_

_Elio_ snaps out of his own head and pretends that it’s a cute joke. That the shocked pause from his end was just a little thing he does to add the flavor to his service.

He simply scoffs quietly with a forced smile, his gaze falling to the side.

“Why~,” _Elio_ begins in a soft jolly tone, “you are gonna ask me for my real name, now?” turning around to grab his boxer.

He hears Oliver quietly bustle out of the bed. _Elio_ catches Oliver’s barefoot landing one at a time, next to the edge of the bed he is standing, as he fishes his leg one by one into the garment. The chiseled cheeks straightens himself, giving a little swish of his head to get his sex-soddened curls away from his forehead and eyes.

“Will you tell me?” asks Oliver at the back of _Elio_. The dark curls feels the weight of the professor’s intend at the level just under his scapula.

A blink. _Why does it sound like a plea?_

Another little pause. And yet…

“Ooo~~,” the hazel eyes counters, “Candice won’t be happy. Unless you amend or modify the contract––.”

“Anything,” Oliver answers without missing a beat.

The mother fucking heart does its free dive from the cliff, against his wishes. But _Elio_ manages not to show it through. He scoffs again, this time a little louder and with a bite.

“The service is already rendered,” adds the slender one, reaching out for his shirt, “you know you don’t need to do that anymore.”

When he tries to put on the shirt over his head, _Elio_ feels Oliver standing behind him. He sucks in the air. And he feels the professor’s large palm so so delicately landing on each side of his waist. Just above the jut of his hips.

“…whatever it takes,” Oliver whispers with a low rumble.

The chiseled cheeks screws his eyes shut, trying not to react or to move noticeably. This isn’t your first rodeo, he tells himself. He clicks his tongue under his breath and threads his head into the shirt.

“Oh, I know, sugar~,” feigning a faux-acquiescence, in a Southern accent, “wouldn’t it be nice, we all just play and have fun, all the time?”

He feels Oliver forehead hesitantly and ever so softly touch against his left shoulder and hears him breathe a subdued sigh. _Elio_ grits his teeth, making his jaw muscles bulge a little. But he keeps himself professional and tactfully detaches himself away from Oliver.

“If I’m your editor, I wouldn’t be so happy, Mister Best Selling non-fiction writer,” and pretends to look for his jeans, putting a couple steps of subtle distance between him and Oliver, by doing a quiet mutter of ‘where is my…’ then goes ‘ah!’ before taking hold of it.

“My family will be out of town for a few days. Would you spend those days with me?”

“I’ll check my schedule and get back to you,” _Elio_ answers nonchalantly, zipping his pants up. He wants to ask why Oliver isn’t going with them. He wants to ask how many days are 'a few days' for him.

“That’s not…,” Oliver turns around and closes the distance, “hold on, hey…,” and stands in front of the dark curls.

 _Elio_ doesn’t look up at him. He keeps his eyes on the hickey he left under Oliver’s right collar bone.

“Would you please look at me?” asks Oliver quietly, “please?”

The chiseled cheeks fills his lungs and holds the breath before he does so.

“Man~, I know you are not bashful. And you know I've always liked how you look,” his eyebrows tips up with a playful jest, “but dude, put on something.”

“Don’t do that,” Oliver’s gaze soft, he requests tenderly.

 _Elio_ chuffs, “what? it’s not a compliment. I told you before it’s…”

“Free up the dates, and spend them with me,” the blond requests sincerely.

And he makes this face that the next thing he is about to say is the last thing he wants to utter, unless he couldn’t help it, “I’ll double the rate for your trouble.”

The hazel eyes clicks his tongue, widening his eyes, almost rolling them in full sarcasm, “ehr, hello~?! Candice.”

“So it’s not the money, then,” Oliver states.

 _Fuck, I hate it when he does this_ _._ As if _Elio_ is wearing his emotions on his sleeves, Oliver always knows when he is conjuring excuses.

Oliver breathes an audible sigh, leaning his forehead on the dark curls’.

“At least,” the professor sucks in a desperate breath, “tell me you’ll consider it.”

.

He doesn't remember how he got out of that quaint yet elegant condo.

He doesn't remember how he got home.

When he wakes up however many days after, his head is throbbing with the shittiest hang-over with the severe cotton-mouth he's ever had in his entire life. Oliver sends him the schedule. He doesn’t contact him back.

He asks Candice to refund Oliver according to the signed paper. Even the book. He boxed it to make sure it doesn’t get damaged.

“That bad, huh?” she said, quietly. _Elio_ doesn’t answer.

 _Elio_ changes his number. After fulfilling his other contracts (which he didn’t have too many to begin with), he disappears from Candice’s agency.

He doesn’t look for Oliver or reach out to him, not even in the cyber space.

Occasionally, he swings by the book store and buys the professor’s new release.

.

| | | FIN | | |

**Author's Note:**

> .  
> Thank \you/ for reading, your time and interest! :)  
> .  
>  **[Special Thanks to]** : (alphabetical order as the King Arthur’s roundtable style may be a tad too dramatic LOL. This has always been my tradition, and I update this list on each fic, periodically.)  
> Chrisaki,  
> E_leigh_1985,  
> genuinefonds,  
> ilovelife19,  
> Joenchi,  
> quima,  
> Un_altra_vita,  
> +  
> those who subscribed, bookmarked, and all anon who sent kudos--!  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> [[why I am not on any social media](https://youtu.be/PmEDAzqswh8)]  
> .  
>  **A Little Something**  
>  ; for those of very very few who'd like to drop a suggestion or have a question about any of my drabbles (i.e. clarification, background, etc.), please click [my AO3 profile page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leszre/profile) and you will be able to reach me.  
> .  
> | | | a Little-er Announcement | | |  
> [BY-NC-ND 4.0](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/): (the gist is...) if you wish, feel free to download and/or share my (*kuh hum* very meager) posts noncommercially, as long as you credit/source me, without any changes and/or alterations.  
> .  
> [ How to get to know me ]: ( **ONLY** if you wish) take as much advantage of the comments section, as I came to realize that I value comments more. (Please note this is my opinion and is **not** meant to offer any commentaries towards this wonderful non-commercial organization) :)  
> 


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